The Wandering Jew — Volume 11 eBook

round her ivory finger, she carefully effaced with
her hands some almost imperceptible folds, which had
formed themselves in the thick material of her elegant
corsage. This movement, and that of turning her
back to the glass, to see if her dress sat perfectly
on all points, revealed, in serpentine undulations,
all the charms and graces of her light and elegant
figure; for, in spite of the rich fulness of her shoulders,
white and firm as sculptured alabaster, Adrienne belonged
to that class of privileged persons, who are able
at need to make a girdle out of a garter.

Having performed, with indescribable grace, these
charming evolutions of feminine coquetry, Adrienne
turned towards Mother Bunch, whose surprise was still
on the increase, and said to her, smiling: “My
dear Magdalen, do not laugh at my question—­but
what would you say to a picture, that should represent
me as I am now?”

“Why, lady—­”

“There you are again, with your lady-ing,”
said Adrienne, in a tone of gentle reproach.

“Well, then, Adrienne,” resumed Mother
Bunch, “I think it would be a charming picture,
for you are dressed, as usual with perfect taste.”

“But am I not better dressed than on other days,
my dear poetess? I began by telling you that
I do not ask the question for my own sake,” said
Adrienne, gayly.

“Well, I suppose so,” replied Mother Bunch,
with a faint smile. “It is certainly impossible
to imagine anything that would suit you better.
The light green and the pale rose-color, with the
soft lustre of the white ornaments, harmonize so well
with your golden hair, that I cannot conceive, I tell
you, a more graceful picture.”

The speaker felt what she said, and she was happy
to be able to express it, for we know the intense
admiration of that poetic soul for all that was beautiful.

“Only?” repeated Adrienne, looking at
her with an air of interrogation.

“Why, only,” continued the other, “if
I have never seen you look more pretty, I have also
never observed in your features the resolute and ironical
expression which they had just now. It was like
an air of impatient defiance.”

“And so it was, my dear little Magdalen,”
said Adrienne, throwing her arms round the girl’s
neck with joyous tenderness. “I must kiss
you, for having guessed it. You see, I expect
a visit from my dear aunt.”

“The Princess de Saint-Dizier?” cried
Mother Bunch, in alarm. “That wicked lady,
who did you so much evil?”

“The very same. She has asked for an interview,
and I shall be delighted to receive her.”

“Delighted?”

“Yes—­a somewhat ironical and malicious
delight, it is true,” answered Adrienne, still
more gayly. “You shall judge for yourself.
She regrets her gallantries, her beauty, her youth—­even
her size afflicts the holy woman!—­and she
will see me young, fair, beloved—­and above
all thin—­yes, thin,” added Mdlle.
de Cardoville, laughing merrily. “And you
may imagine, my dear, how much envy and despair, the
sight of a young, thin woman excites in a stout one
of a certain age!”